The Surgeon’s Studio

Old Chief Physician Pan was too tired. He left the surgical demonstration classroom once the last appendectomy ended.

Only Chief Surgeon Liu and Cen Meng remained in the room. The cold and stifling atmosphere permeated every breath of air.

That line about the appendix having no soul had earned Cen Meng a tirade from Chief Surgeon Liu that was still going strong after 30 minutes. The chief surgeon’s anger was not diminishing and neither was his energy.

Cen Meng was getting a headache from the scolding and his brain felt liquid. He stared out blankly into the night sky.

An uneasy silence stretched ahead.

…

At 2:11 am, Zheng Ren’s phone woke him up.

It was the general surgery department—there was a patient prepped for an appendectomy.

Zheng Ren was already informed by the System about this challenge from fate. He did not mind another surgery.

He could handle a night without sleep.

The energy elixir which he got from his first mission was still stored within the System. Zheng Ren had no clue as to its function, but if it was handed out by the System, it should be reliable.

Brimming with confidence, Zheng Ren got up from the bed.

The on-call doctor in the next bed grumbled at the disruption and flipped over to face the other side.

Zheng Ren threw on his white lab coat and headed to the general surgery department.

Preparations were already complete when he arrived. He studied the patient before him and the System clued him in: a simple case of appendicitis.

Manageable. He expected the surgery to be done in ten minutes.

Ten minutes inclusive of the placement of surgical drapes and the patient transport post-surgery. The bulk of that time would be spent on setting up continuous epidural anesthesia, which was dependent on the anesthesiologist, Zheng Ren had no say in it.

At this thought, Zheng Ren remembered the Chu sisters and wondered about their anesthesiology skills. He had already forgotten their physical appearances, but he recalled Chu Yanzhi mentioning them doing research on intensive care in West China University. They had the skill to be anesthesiologists.

Anesthesia was vital in the operating room of any intensive care unit. Hence, intensive care and anesthesiology were intricately linked.

Zheng Ren would not be surprised if the Chu twins were certified anesthesiologists.

Sadly, he could not expect much from them as that was far in the future. It was up to him now. He pushed the twin sisters to the back of his mind and focused on the mission ahead.

After confirming the patient’s details, Zheng Ren explained the informed consent documents. Once the paperwork was done, he brought the patient to the operating room.

After waking Xie Yiren, he scrubbed in and began draping the patient.

Another surgery was due.

…

The anonymous account on Xinglin Garden started another surgery livestream.

Doctors on the site were familiar with the account. Now, all of them were being woken by an alarm on their phone.

There was no alarm set, so why was there a noise? The doctors were annoyed at the wake-up call.

When they saw that it was a notification from Xinglin Garden, they were confused. When did Xinglin Garden have a notification alarm feature?

However, when some of the doctors saw that it was a livestream from the anonymous account, they gladly logged on and watched from the comfort of their bed.

[The god is just performing appendectomies the whole night?]

[It’s just appendicitis. Was there a need for such urgency?]

[I’m excited. Who knows what new methods will be shown?]

As the audience, they laid in bed while the surgeon stood; they were half-asleep while the surgeon had to be wide awake.

The doctors felt blessed.

This poor surgeon had to perform an emergency appendectomy in the middle of the night. They had it so much better, lying in their warm beds, watching a surgery livestream.

However, their enjoyment did not last long. Once the surgical drapes were placed, the scalpel flicked and opened skin. Roughly ten seconds later, a bloody appendix was excised without much fanfare.

The only highlight was the tiny incision and the surgeon’s incredibly experienced and skilled performance.

A routine appendectomy was four minutes and twelve seconds long. Some doctors had only glanced away to read the patient’s case details and in that time, the surgery was over.

[That was quick!]

[Although I said there’s not much exciting content, it bears repeating that that was way too quick. If it was our chief surgeon, a standard appendectomy would take around ten minutes. Side note, I’m from one of the known Class Three Grade A Hospitals.]

[Has the surgeon been doing appendectomies his whole life? That was a whole other level of proficiency!]

There were not many comments on the Xinglin Garden livestream. After a few high-difficulty appendectomies, this normal surgery did not satiate their curiosity.

The patient was lifted from the operating table. Many viewers were ready to switch off the livestream and the notification alarm, planning to get a good night’s sleep.

At this point, another patient’s case details appeared on screen.

[Another appendectomy?]

[Where did he find so many cases?]

[Is this the appendectomy marathon night that people talk about? I was about to go to bed, but now I’m energized. My god, have pity on me. I have five surgeries scheduled tomorrow.]

The surgical prep did not take long. Another patient was sent in.